Inside Out
by dendragon14
Summary: Scott lands himself in Eichen House after his mother finds him with a razor blade poised over his wrist. There, he meets Stiles and Isaac, who become fast friends. He also meets Lydia, a schizophrenic who happens to predict when a patient is going to die. It's just coincidence, right? But the longer he stays, the more Scott begins to think that the hospital is hiding something.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. All rights go to the creators.**

**Summary: Scott is committed to Eichen House after his mother catches him in the bathroom with a razor blade poised over his wrist. Eichen House, although known for its "outstanding" cure rate, Scott is sure that they are hiding something.**

Eichen House. Echo House. The Nut House. The Looney Bin. No matter what term was used, it didn't make the leering tower of a hospital any less intimidating. The ten foot fence that surrounded the grounds was like a warning to stay away. It didn't help that it had an automatic locking gate.  
Scott wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and gave a shaky sigh. His mind was in an utter state of panic; he couldn't believe that this was happening to him. His thoughts were still stuck on the fact that his own mother had called an ambulance to "escort" him to the local mental institution. Scott had done nothing remotely crazy or insane, not in his books anyway.

Sure, his mother had found him in the bathroom with a razor blade poised over his wrists, but he hadn't acted on the urge that said it was okay if he bled out. But now, as he thought it over again, he would've sliced open his wrist if his mother hadn't walked in; since his father had left several months ago, and his girlfriend Caitlyn, had dumped him for a girl, Scott hadn't exactly been the happiest person around.

The EMT's escorted him through the gates and up the steps. Waiting at the front entrance was a pretty woman with dark brown hair that fell down to her shoulders in subtle curls. She wore a white coat overtop a simple black dress, a clipboard in hand.  
"Scott McCall," she said, more of a statement than a question. She held out her hand, which he took and firmly shook.  
"Follow me," she said. She pushed open the main door, ushering him inside. The foyer was a dull beige color that was several shades off from the beige of the bricks that made up the building. They took a left turn through a set of double doors and entered a very clean, very colorless hall.

He felt extremely dirty as he walked down the white, pristine hall. There were other patients wondering about in these halls; some talking to themselves, some dancing to music only they could here, and some were staring off into the abyss. It freaked him out to some extent, almost like he was walking through a haunted house, expecting and waiting for something to jump out at him.

"I'm sure you'll be very comfortable here, Scott," Dr. Blake said, in attempt at drawing his attention away from the patients.  
"Yeah, I'm sure," he muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He kept his gaze straight ahead to avoid unnecessary contact with Dr. Blake or any of the patients. In his peripheral vision, he saw Dr. Blake looking at him, a slight frown on her face. She turned her eyes away from him and they continued to walk down the hall in an uncomfortable silence.

Once they had passed through the adult ward, they turned left and came upon a set of swinging double doors. Labelled in black letters across frosted glass windows was "Youth Ward". Dr. Blake pushed open the door and ushered Scott through the doors into a hallway that was painted the palest of greens. Like the adult ward, the patients were wondering around, but something about them seemed less intimidating to Scott. Perhaps it was the fact that they were all around the same age as him.

"Now, about-" She was cut off midsentence by a sharp buzzing , Dr. Blake sighed and rummaged around in her coat pocket, pulling out a pager. She glanced at her pager and sighed, shoved it in her pocket and glance back up at Scott, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm sorry. I would show you around the place, but I have to deal with a patient on the secure word."

Scott shrugged. He really couldn't care less at the moment. He heard Dr. Blake sigh and turned to leave, but stopped mid step and waved over a boy about Scott's age.  
"Stiles, this is Scott, he's new here and I was wondering if you'd like to show him around."  
"Sure," Stiles said, shrugging, "Why not?" He was thin, but no overly so. He had brown eyes that would have been warm if it weren't for the dark circles that sat underneath, making them look hollow. His hair was severely tousled, as though he had just rolled out of bed. Scott couldn't help but notice how his fingers constantly twitched and wiggled like he had been electrocuted. He reminded Scott of a hyper active squirrel searching for nuts.

He trailed a step behind Stiles as he led Scott down the hall to a common area. Unlike the pristine shine of the hallways, the common room seemed cozy- homey even. The walls were painted a shade of blue that were supposed to be calming Scott guessed. One wall was entirely composed of windows that overlooked a courtyard filled with flowers. The sitting area was composed of a beige leather sofa and armchairs. A dark wooden TV stand with a 32" television atop stood across from the sofa.  
"So, this is the common room," Stiles exclaimed, "This is where the majority of us spend most of the day." Scott had to admit that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. If it weren't for the fact that there was a nurse's station positioned in one corner of the room, he thought it was a good community center setting. Maybe that's what they were aiming for.

The patients in the room were busying themselves with games, or having conversations with themselves, or simply staring into space. There was one patient that caught Scott's eye though. Scott didn't know if it was the way he was isolating himself from the other patients, or the fact that he seemed more like he could be twenty five than eighteen. He sat facing the wall of windows, a deck of cards laid out before him. Stiles noticed him looking.

"That's Derek," he said, "He's new here too. He's only been here a couple of weeks, but I would avoid him. From what I overheard, he has a major bad case of paranoia and he suffers from IED."  
"What's that," Scott asked.  
"Intermittent Explosive Disorder," Stiles explained, "It's not as funny as it sounds. It has to do with like sudden outbursts of rage." For a patient, Stiles knew a lot about other mental illnesses other than the one he was diagnosed with.

"How do you even know about this," Scott asked.  
"Dr. Blake let me borrow a copy of the Diagnostic and Statistic manual. It gives me something to do when my insomnia is really bad." He paused, glanced away from Scott and then suddenly looked back at him. "Have you checked in with the nurses," he asked. Scott shook his head.

"You should probably do that then. They're the ones that give out room assignments, and also this stylish uniform," Stiles chuckled, gesturing to his white T-shirt, pale green pants, and beige slippers.  
Scott headed over to the nurse's station which was in the farthest corner of the room so that it overlooked the entire common area and the hall that led down to the rooms.

The nurse that sat at the desk behind a sliding glass window was Asian and had dark, shiny hair that was pinned up into a bun. He thought that she seemed relatively young to be a nurse, but what did he know?  
"Hi," he said sheepishly. The nurse glanced up an gave him a warm smile.  
"You must be Scott," she said, getting up from her chair. "Come with me." She exited the nurse's station and he followed her into a side room adjacent to the nurse's station. She glanced at him, sizing him up.

"Are you a medium or a large," she asked.  
"Medium." She handed him a folded set of clothes and threw a pair of beige slippers onto the floor. She pointed at his shoes.  
"No laces allowed," she stated. Scott kicked off his sneakers and stepped into the slippers. She grabbed his shoes and placed them on a shelf in the room.

"You don't have a belt, do you," she asked gently. Scott shook his head. She headed back behind the desk and sat back down in the chair. She focused her eyes on the computer momentarily and then glanced back up at him.  
"Do you have any personal items on you; phone, keys, wallet; anything like that?" Reluctantly, he handed over his phone and his keys; his wallet he had left at home. She slipped them into a clear plastic bag and wrote his name on it in black Sharpie.  
"Don't worry," she reassured, a small smile on her face, "These will be stored in a locked, secure place."

* * *

He was assigned to room 215. The room contained two beds, both neatly made with pristine white sheets and dark blue covers. A single bedside table with a modern lamp sat in between the beds and beneath a window that overlooked a basketball court. Scott wasn't sure which bed to take; he didn't know if he'd be sharing the room. It was very bare.  
"Stiles, is anyone else in this room," he asked.

"Yeah, I think Isaac has this room," Stiles said, his voice trailing off. He ran through his already dishevelled hair. "I can introduce you to him and everyone else, if you want."  
Scott thought that Stiles was being extremely kind by going out of his way to introduce Scott to everyone, not including Derek. He met Erica and Allison, who both seemed rather broody; Stiles later explained that they both suffered from Clinical Depression. Then there was Danny, who had to say every second word twice. Then there was Malia, who was almost as thin as a skeleton; Bulimia at its worst.

He introduced Scott to Isaac last. Like Derek, Isaac had chosen to isolate himself from the other patients. He was curled up in one of the armchairs, seemingly asleep.  
"Maybe we should leave him be," Scott whispered. Ignoring Scott's words, Stiles shook Isaac awake, practically yelling at him to wake up.  
Isaac jumped, his eyes flying open, clearly startled. He glared at Stiles momentarily before turning his attention to Scott.  
"Who are you," he demanded quietly, staring at him with piercing blue eyes.  
"I'm Scott, your roommate," he said. He stuck out his hand, which Isaac flinched away from before timidly taking his hand in return.  
"Nice to meet you."

* * *

Scott spent the afternoon with Stiles, who he found was a sarcastic, joke-cracker, and Isaac, who he thought seemed good natured but very introverted. Stiles' attitude, considering the place he was in, was exceptionally optimistic, Scott thought. It made him feel slightly less miserable.

As dinner rolled around, he was surprised to find out that the food was surprisingly good. The variety they had was pretty good too.  
There was one thought that kept nagging on his brain.  
"So where are the orderlies," he asked, "I never saw any around."

"Trust me," Stiles said around a mouthful of food, "They're around, you just don't notice. They're kind of like shadows."  
Suddenly, there was an eardrum shattering scream that echoed off the walls of the cafeteria. Scott flinched and glanced down the long table. All eyes were turned towards a girl with red hair that he didn't recognize.

"Someone's dying," she cried, "Someone's dying." She jolted to her feet, sending her chair skittering back. As if out of thin air, two men dressed in white T-shirts and black jeans appeared. They grabbed her by the elbows, turned her and dragged her out of the cafeteria, screaming all the way.  
There was a moment of silence before everyone returned to their meal and the chatter resumed.  
"What was that about," Scott demanded. Isaac glanced up from his plate and stared Scott in the eyes.  
"Lydia's a schizophrenic; she freaks out a lot," he explained. "It's just that…when she says someone is dying…she's usually right."

**A/N: So there's the first chapter! Hope you all enjoy! Tell me what you think; should I continue? Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. All rights go to the creators.**

Scott lay staring up at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, lost in thought. He still couldn't comprehend what Isaac had said at dinner; it just didn't make sense. He had wanted to ask more about what he had meant when he had said Lydia was "usually right", but Isaac had nodded off to sleep in minutes and Scott didn't want to be rude and intrude on his dreams. Scott was surprised how Isaac actually managed to sleep through the night; every half hour a nurse would pop her head into the room, but somehow, Scott managed to fall into a dreamless, restless sleep.

It seemed as though he had only just closed his eyes when he felt himself being shaken awake by Isaac. Scott blinked away the sleep and blearily glared up at his roommate.  
"What," he groaned. He ran a hand through his hair and propped himself up on his elbows.  
"It's time to get up," Isaac said flatly. Scott yawned and forced himself up into a sitting position.  
"What time is it?"

"Seven," he replied. Why so early, Scott thought. He groaned and fell back down onto his pillow and sighed. He lay in bed for another moment or two before reluctantly swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  
For seven in the morning, things seemed lively. The common area was more crowded then yesterday, but most of the patients milled about like zombies, still half asleep. The orderlies that he had failed to notice his first day he noticed now. They skulked about in the hallways and in the common area, pacing like caged tigers.

He found it rather eerie that they lurked in the shadows, wallflowers silently watching over the patients.  
At exactly seven-thirty they were herded down like cattle to the cafeteria where Scott fell into line between Stiles and Isaac. As he grabbed a food tray and inched forward in line, he could hear dozens of conversations going on that all seemed very secretive. Everywhere he glanced, he saw people together in twos and threes, their heads bent close together.

"Stiles, what's everyone talking about," he asked.  
"Lydia," he replied, reaching for a bowl of oatmeal. "She was right."  
"She was right," Scott repeated, surprise laced in his voice. How was that possible? How could she have possibly known that someone was going to die? It just didn't make any sense.

"Who died," he demanded rather loudly. He got several glances from orderlies that huddled nearby. Stiles shushed him.  
Once the three of them had grabbed what they wanted for breakfast they pulled out of line and found a table near the windows that was well away from other patients.  
"Who died," Scott demanded again.  
"Some guy in the adult ward," Stiles explained vaguely.  
"How does she do it," Scott asked, "How does she know when someone's going to die?" Stiles and Isaac shrugged simultaneously.

"Beats me," Stiles muttered. He turned to Isaac. "You got any theories?" Isaac smirked lightly and glanced down at his cereal, momentarily lost in thought.  
"I always thought that she might be a mind reader or something like that," he said, his voice subdued. "Or possibly a witch."  
"Why isn't she on the youth ward," Scott asked.

"She was," Stiles sighed, "But not for long. She attacked someone; claiming that she was trying to save them from themselves."  
"They don't allow any patients that pose a danger to others on the ward," Isaac stated.  
"They should get rid of Derek then," Stiles retorted, through a mouthful of oatmeal. "The guy's a loose cannon waiting to go off."  
"Aren't we all?" Isaac asked sarcastically.

* * *

The morning went by rather slowly for Scott. He was still groggy from getting up so early, and he was still very new to the daily routine that no one seemed to inform him about. Around noon, Dr. Blake waltzed on into the common room and began to call out names. Stiles' and Isaac's name was on the list, but his was not.  
"Where are you going," he asked, as Stiles and Isaac got up from where they were sitting.  
"Group Therapy," Stiles replied. "It's different every day, so we'll be having it at the same time sooner or later." He turned to leave and follow the five others that had been called. Scott slumped in his seat and sighed. Now what was he going to do?

Scott was left to his own devices as Stiles and Isaac left for group therapy. He lounged around in the common area, waiting for them to come back; it sucked that they weren't in the same therapy group. Boredom crept up on him quickly, which left him staring at the ceiling as he lay on the sofa, his legs draped over the arm. There was practically nothing to do.  
Once he had counted all the ceiling tiles in his sight, he got to his feet and shuffled about the room. He spotted Derek sitting at a table, sorting through a deck of cards. Of all people, Derek seemed the most secluded, and something about his social isolation attracted Scott like a magnet. He knew that he was probably making a huge mistake, but he was bored, and he didn't really feel like talking to the patients who were strangers to him.

"Mind if I sit down," he asked. Derek didn't glance up from his cards that he was hastily shuffling. He shrugged and muttered something under his breath. Uncertainly, Scott sat down. He watched as Derek continued to shuffle the deck before splitting it in half and pushing it towards Scott.  
"Help me sort," Derek said sternly. With lightening speed, he began to place cards along the table, lined from Ace to King, black on one side, red on the other. Scott watched for a moment, confused as to why he just wanted to sort the cards when the two of them could play a game. But Scott complied with Derek's request and helped him sort through the cards.

The silence that hung between them was more than uncomfortable, it was awkward. Scott tried to think of conversation starters, but he doubted any of them would work with Derek. Instead, he decided to bring up the topic that had been bothering him since last night.  
"Did you hear about the suicide last night," Scott asked quietly, careful not to attract any attention from the orderlies. Derek nodded firmly, his eyes on the cards in his hands. The silence between them resumed and Scott sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. This wasn't going anywhere. He was just thinking about getting up and leaving Derek to himself when he suddenly spoke up.

"What do you know about the history behind mental institutions," he asked. His eyes were still focused on his hands as he continued to deal out cards. Scott glanced up from his cards, confused. He found the question very sudden and out of place.  
'Not much," Scott admitted.  
"Facilities like this place…they use to be a living hell. They still are, I guess, but at least today's doctors carry some knowledge. The ones back in the days, they were the crazy ones, not the patients." Scott remained silent at his comment. He wasn't exactly sure what Derek meant by that; he honestly didn't know anything about mental health institutions in the past. Then again, Stiles had said Derek suffered from paranoia. Perhaps it was the paranoia that was fueling his words.

Derek glanced up at him for a moment before turning his eyes back to the table.  
"I'm saying that the person that died last night, it wasn't because they committed suicide. Someone killed them," Derek said through gritted teeth. He threw his final card onto the table and glanced up at Scott with piercing green eyes. "Do you get the point I'm trying to get across?"  
"That there's a murderer in the hospital," Scott suggested weakly. From what Stiles had told him, Derek seemed like a loose cannon and the last thing he wanted to do was anger him. Derek sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing slightly.

"In a way, yes, there is a murderer…but this person isn't doing it for the sake of killing. They do it because they're curious."  
"What do you mean by that," he demanded quietly.  
"I mean that someone on the staff, a doctor most likely, is using patients to experiment."

**A/N : So there's the second chapter. Hope you all enjoy. Feel free to favourite, leave reviews or follow; all is welcomed and appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. All rights go to the creators.**

Around eleven, Stiles and Isaac returned from group therapy, looking rather grim. They joined Scott at the table that he had claimed after Derek had collected his cards and disappeared.  
"How was therapy," he asked. They both groaned in response, their eyes focused on the table. Scott didn't want to push into whatever was bugging them, so instead he brought up his conversation with Derek.  
Once he had finished telling them about Derek's bizarre theory of patient deaths, Stiles and Isaac looked at each other. They burst into laughter. Scott glared at the two and slumped in his seat. Stiles turned his attention to Scott, a goofy smile upon on his tired face.

"This is Derek were talking about," Stiles said, drawing out his words. "Have you forgotten that he is incredibly paranoid? Did you honestly believe in what he told you?" Scott felt heat rise to his face in embarrassment. Although he hadn't truly believed in Derek's theory of experimentation, he hadn't brushed it off as false. He honestly didn't know what to think of the matter at hand. He shrugged.  
"Not really," he muttered. "But he didn't seem all that paranoid."

"That's because he's on medication," Isaac stated firmly, "Everyone here is, although Stiles never takes-" Stiles clapped a hand over Isaac's mouth and shushed him.  
"Why don't you say that louder, I don't think the nurse heard you," he grumbled. Isaac pried Stiles' hand away from his face and shoved him harshly in the shoulder.  
"Don't do that," Isaac growled.  
"I'm not on any meds," Scott exclaimed.

"Not yet," Stiles corrected, "Just wait for your first meeting with Dr. Blake. She'll set you up on something good for whatever's wrong with you…What is wrong with you anyway? You never said." A tense silence fell between the three. Scott groaned inwardly and shifted awkwardly in his seat.  
"I was planning on slitting my wrists," he muttered quietly, averting his eyes. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as they both processed Scott's words.  
"So, you're depressed like Allison and Erica," asked Isaac, breaking the silence. Scott glanced up at the two. He assumed they would look like his mother did when she had found him in the bathroom; shocked or disgusted. But neither of them held any sort of contempt in their eyes. They understood.

* * *

As Stiles had predicted, Dr. Blake made an appearance just before lunch and approached Scott. He was escorted down to her office, an orderly trailing behind. They passed through the Adult Ward, entered the foyer and crossed the foyer to a pair of elevators. They stepped in and Dr. Blake hit the button for floor three. Scott felt his stomach drop at the sudden lurch of the elevator as it went upward.

The elevator doors slid open and Dr. Blake stepped out, ushering Scott and his orderly shadow out. The hall that he was in was an eerie gray color. The sunlight that shone through the windows cast golden squares on the tile floor. It made the hall seem friendlier, but not by much.  
He was led into a small office. It contained a leather loveseat and chair that faced the window, several bookcases that took up an entire wall, and a desk that was pressed up against the wall closest to the door.

Dr. Blake gestured for Scott to take a seat, which he did so reluctantly. The orderly stood by the closed door, standing stone still like a guard. Scott couldn't help but feel claustrophobic in the small office, and the fact that his only exit was momentarily blocked didn't help.  
The meeting was short and to the point. Dr. Blake wasted no time in explaining to Scott on how she was going to approach his depression. Although Scott considered himself more so as sporadically sad and not depressed, he didn't voice this thought to her.  
Dr. Blake went on to explain that she was going to try an antidepressant on him and see how it affected him. Scott groaned inwardly; the last thing he wanted was medication. But he should have expected some drug to be prescribed to him eventually.

* * *

As he was led back to the elevators, he passed by a door that he had failed to notice when he was going to Dr. Blake's office. Unlike the entrance to the Adult and Youth Ward, this door had a keypad and card lock on the outside. On the door, labelled over frosted glass was "Authorized Personal Only". How had he failed to notice this door earlier?  
"C'mon," the orderly ushered, grabbing Scott lightly by the elbow, "Keep moving." Reluctantly, Scott kept moving forward, his eyes still on the door. Thousands of questions floated in his head as he pondered what could possibly be beyond the door? As he stepped into the elevator, Scott couldn't help but recall Derek's words.

If experimentation was going on, then doing it behind a locked door that few people had access to was a good way to go about it.  
Instead of being taken back to the ward, the orderly led Scott down to the cafeteria, where everyone was in the middle of eating lunch. He grabbed a tray and grabbed whatever looked the fastest to eat; a sandwich and an apple.  
He found Isaac and Stiles seated near the windows again. What caught his attention was that Lydia, of all people, was at their table. She was seated several seats away from them and she seemed to pay them no attention, but Scott still found it weird that she was there.

He took a seat next to Isaac and across from Stiles.  
"Hey, how'd it go," Stiles asked, "Did she prescribe anything good?"  
"Fine, and yes, she prescribed something, but don't try and get me to pronounce it." Scott replied. He glanced over at Lydia and lowered his voice down to a whisper. "What is she doing here?" Isaac and Stiles shrugged simultaneously and gave Lydia a side glance.  
"Don't know," Stiles whispered, "But I don't really care. She's not bothering anyone." Deciding that it'd be best if he turned their attention away from Lydia, Scott brought up the strange door that he had come across upon leaving Dr. Blake's office.  
"When you guys have gone up to her office, did you notice on the way there a locked door that said "Authorize Personal Only" on it?"

"You'll have to be specific," Isaac said, "There are a lot of locked doors in this building that say that." Scott described the door and its location as best as possible. Neither of them found it to be a big deal though.  
"It's just a door," Stiles put plainly. Scott frowned. What if it wasn't just a door? What if that door was concealing obscene, cruel things? Stiles seemed to be reading his mind. He scoffed and gave a short chuckle.  
"Don't tell me you're still thinking about Derek's crazy experiment theory?" Stiles asked, slightly annoyed.  
"I'm not, it's just that-"  
"Death waits beyond that door," Lydia muttered, cutting him off. The three of them turned towards her, confusion written on all their faces.

"What did you say," Scott asked. Lydia glanced up from her food and stared at him. Her eyes were big, as though she had been startled awake.  
"The door you speak of," she said quietly, "Death waits beyond the door."  
"What do you mean?" Lydia fidgeted with her finger and ran a hand nervously through her red hair.  
"Pain…suffering," she whispered. "What's past the door…It changes people."  
"How-"  
"Scott-" Stiles began. He made a cutting motion across his throat, a cue for Scott to stop talking. He ignored Stiles though and turned back to Lydia.  
"How do you what's past the door?" Lydia's eyes glazed over momentarily. She shook her head and stared at Scott. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.  
"I've been beyond that door."

* * *

After lunch, they had been corralled out into the courtyard for some fresh air. The ten foot fence that surrounded the place put a damper on the flowers that lined it. It was as though they had attempted to make the place cheerful, but had majorly failed.  
The basketball court was the only thing of appeal to Scott, but he couldn't imagine himself playing an actual game of basketball. Not with all the nut jobs in this place.  
Scott found a bench under a large tree and positioned himself there, content on staying put.

"Hey Scott," Stiles called. "You want to play basketball," he asked, hopping from foot to foot. Scott glanced up at his friend, and sighed inwardly. He was lousy at basketball, and he certainly didn't want to play with a bunch of whackos; who knew what they might do.  
"Uh…I'm not that good," he said, fumbling for a good excuse. Stiles frowned and knelt on the ground at Scott's feet. He clasped his hands together, as though praying.  
"Oh, c'mon, pretty please," Stiles begged, "It's just one game; five of us against five of the orderlies." Scott hated it when people begged; it reminded him of a whiny little kid that demanded your attention; eventually they would get what they wanted.  
"Fine…one game."  
"Yes," Stiles cheered, jumping to his feet, "Okay, so that's you, me, Isaac, Allison…We need one more person."  
"What about Erica," Scott asked, pointing over towards her.

"She's a ball magnet," Allison said monotonously, "Last time she played; she had to be escorted to the infirmary for a broken nose." Scott glanced around the courtyard, trying to spy someone that could function relatively well in a game of basket ball.  
His eyes almost instantly fell upon Derek.  
"What about Derek?"

"Are you serious," the three of them demanded in unison. Scott ignored their protests as he went over to were Derek was.  
"Derek," Scott called. Derek turned at his name and got to his feet as Scott approached him. "Do you want to play basketball with us?"  
He looked utterly confused for a moment. He glanced behind Scott at the others that stood huddled on the court. He looked back to Scott, his face expressionless.  
"I don't think they want me to play," he said.  
Scott shrugged, waving them off. "Who cares what they think, I wouldn't mind if you played. I bet you're really good at it." For a moment, Derek focused his eyes on the ground before glancing back up at Scott. He smiled lightly, joy reaching his eyes.  
"Okay," he said. He followed Scott back to the court and he could literally see his teams' shoulders slump. They obviously thought that Derek would decline his offer.

* * *

The game that ensued was rather intense, Scott thought. It was obvious five minutes in that the orderlies had done this multiple times before; they were really good. Scott and the others were too slow for them to catch. It was sort of embarrassing.  
They lost by four points, mind you; the orderlies had only won by four points. It was the utmost truth that all five of them were horrid at basketball. Scott was soaked in sweat, his breath coming in pants.  
"Let's not do that again," he huffed, glancing at the other four who were hunched over and breathless. All they could do was nod in response to his words.

* * *

Upon returning to the common room, Scott grabbed another set of clothing from his room and headed to the showers. Stiles and Isaac followed suit.  
The bathroom was longer than it was wide. On one side were the showers, each stall separated by half walls. On the other side were the toilets and urinals. Scott noticed that each stall had no door. And on the back wall were the sinks. There wasn't a mirror in the room.

It's kind of depressing, isn't it," Stiles asked. Scott nodded.  
"So much for privacy," he muttered. He slipped off his clothes and placed them on one of the rows of shelf that stood by the door.  
Scott turned the water as cold as it would go. He sighed; the cold water felt refreshing on his sweaty skin. The three of them showered in silence, lost in their own thoughts for the time being.

"You look like you're thinking awful hard," Stiles said, breaking the silence between the three of them. Scott shrugged.  
"Got a lot on my mind," he replied curtly.  
"Are you still obsessing about that door," Stiles asked, exasperation laced in his voice. "I thought you said you were depressed, not OCD."  
"I'm not OCD, just curious," Scott muttered.  
"Yeah, well curiosity is what killed the cat," Isaac said, "Don't go looking for trouble, Scott."

**A/N: Okay, so there is the third chapter. Enjoy! Also, thank you for all the positive feedback, it is very motivating.**

**I was asked a question as to whether there would be any romance in this story, and right now, no there isn't any, but I'm thinking in later chapters that you might see some Stydia going on.**

**And in the next chapter or two to come, Peter will make an appearance, as well as William Barrow. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or the characters. All rights go to the creators.**

The next day, after breakfast, Scott stood in line at the nurses' station behind Stiles, waiting to be administered medication. He wasn't looking forward to having pills handed to him every single day for who knows how long…Until he was cured, Scott guessed, or no longer considered a danger to himself.  
The line of patients inched forward slowly. Scott wasn't surprised when one patient, Malia, was pulled out of line and had to have her pills forced down her throat.

Once she had been dealt with, the line continued its slow movement forward.  
Isaac stumbled into line behind Scott. Stiles glanced at Isaac then glanced at Scott and gave him a confused look. Scott shrugged; it was beyond him as to why Isaac was so sluggish this morning. Usually, he was an early riser, but this morning Scott had had to shake him awake.  
"Dude, you look awful."

"Thank you very much, Stiles," Isaac groaned.  
Isaac did look more worn out than usual. The usual brightness in his blue eyes seemed duller, and dark circles had appeared under his eyes, making them appear sunken.  
"Did you sleep at all," Scott asked.  
"Sort of," he said, stifling a yawn, "I had a bad dream that kept repeating itself."  
"Those suck," Stiles muttered. They inched forward in line. Isaac glared at Stiles.

"How would you know," Isaac demanded. "You don't even sleep."  
"I do so," Stiles retorted, mocking offence. "Very rarely, but I do sleep." They inched forward in line again. Stiles was next in line and he took his pill cup without hesitation and washed it down with water. Scott stepped up to the nurses' desk next and was handed two small plastic cups; one with water, the other with the pill. He glanced at the small pill in the little plastic cup and sighed before tossing it into his mouth and washing it down with water. It left an awful aftertaste.  
Scott and Stiles headed over to one of the tables that were closer to the nurses' station. Isaac didn't follow. Instead, he headed back towards the bedrooms that lined the hallway.

"Where're you going," Scott asked.  
"The nurse said I could go back to sleep for awhile," Isaac said, "Hope you don't mind if I'm not around for awhile." As Isaac disappeared back into their room, Scott took a seat at the table while Stiles took a seat across from him. Allison and Erica joined them and the four of them sat in comfortable silence, but the longer the silence was drawn out, the more awkward the quiet became.

"We should play a board game," Allison suggested, her tone attempting to be cheery. Stiles and Erica shrugged in response.  
"Sure, why not," Scott said, trying not to sound monotone. Erica headed over to the nurses' station and spoke briefly to the nurse on duty. A moment later, she came back with a board game box labeled LIFE.  
"Really," Stiles asked sarcastically. "Couldn't you find something that would remotely keep our interest?"  
"Hey," Erica snapped defensively, "It was this or Candy Land."  
"Hey, I loved playing Candy Land," Stiles replied.

The four of them set up the game board and pieces and proceeded to play the game to shake off some of their boredom. It didn't work very well.  
They were halfway through the game when Scott heard the squeaking of shoes on the tile floor. He glanced up from the game board and saw a thin, tall man in a white coat coming down the hall.  
"Who's that," Scott asked. Allison and Stiles turned their attention to where Scott was looking. He saw Allison grimace before turning her attention back to the game board.  
"That's Dr. Barrow," Stiles replied lowly. Just the mention of the man's name seemed to send a ripple of hate through the three.

Barrow was taller than average. He had thinning brown hair that was slowly greying as he aged and permanently squinty small eyes. He glanced about the common room before calling over a nearby orderly. The two of them leaned in close to each other, lost in intense conversation. Scott watched intently, taking into notice at how agitated Dr. Barrow seemed. The orderly pulled away and nodded firmly. Barrow stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. The orderly he had been talking to walked the length of the room and addressed two orderlies that were lounging by the nurses' station. Although they were not within ear shot,

Scott could make out several curses before the three of the made haste, following Barrow's footsteps down the hall.  
"What was that about," Scott asked, looking at the others. Stiles shrugged and turned back to the board game.  
"Strange shit happens around here all the time," he commented, his chin propped up on his fist. He grabbed the dice and rolled. "I've learned not to question it anymore; I've been here way too long to keep caring."

"Dr. Barrow's a real creep," Allison said.  
"How so?" Scott asked, urging her to continue.  
"Why don't you ask Isaac," Erica suggested.  
"Why would Isaac know anything about Barrow," Stiles interrupted. Erica raised her eyebrows, surprised.

"He never told you," she asked. A smirk appeared on her face. "I thought you knew everything about everyone here, Stiles." Stiles stared at her for a moment before leaning back in his chair. He made a rolling motion with his hand; a gesture for her to continue. Erica sighed impatiently, as though telling Stiles was a waste of breath. She leaned forward in her chair, beckoning Scott, Stiles and Allison closer so the nurse or passing orderlies wouldn't hear.

"Isaac was assigned to Dr. Barrow when he first arrived here, but he got switched to Dr. Blake after…after a certain episode." Scott frowned as he struggled to keep up with the conversation. What had happened to Isaac? He didn't actually know much about Isaac, not even the reason as to why he was committed to Eichen House in the first place. He glanced back at Erica, who seemed content on to keep talking.  
"Do you remember what Isaac was like when he first came here?" she asked, her question directed only to Stiles.

"Not really," Stiles admitted, "I mean, I never really spent much time around the guy until Scott showed up." Erica sighed, her eyes focused off somewhere into the abyss.  
"He was completely…normal," Erica stated. "There was nothing wrong with him." Scott slouched in his seat and rested his elbows on the table. This conversation was getting more confusing the longer it continued.

"Then why is he here," Stiles demanded, annoyed.  
"His asshole of a father put him in here," Erica hissed. "He didn't want to deal with Isaac anymore."  
"What a jerk," Allison muttered, shaking her head.

"So, get to the point already, Erica," Stiles demanded, "You said he was normal when he came here? What happened to change that?"  
"Barrow did something to him," Erica hissed accusingly, "Something that broke Isaac." Scott shook away the fog that had clouded his mind. He was having trouble keeping things straight in his head. It seemed that ever since he had arrived here his mind had been slowly unravelling into insanity. First there was a schizophrenic who could predict patient deaths; there was a mysterious locked door, which, according to Lydia, was where death awaited. Second, there was Derek's crazy theory about patient experimentation and third, there was some creepy doctor who had apparently psychologically damaged Isaac beyond repair.

But as he mulled over all this information in his head, Scott couldn't help but feel inclined to think that there was something that the hospital was hiding. Perhaps he was just being suspicious, paranoid even, but something didn't feel right.

* * *

Today, apparently, was one of the three visiting days they had throughout the week. Again, no one had bothered to inform Scott about visiting hours, not even Stiles. Scott noticed that not many visitors showed up though. He was surprised to see that Derek was one of the four people that got a visitor. He saw Stiles glancing down the hallway anxiously, as though waiting for someone's arrival.  
"You expecting someone," Scott asked.

"My dad comes by when he can," Stiles replied, his eyes gazing down the hall longingly. "He's pretty busy most days though, being Sheriff and all, so he usually comes around during long weekends and holidays. What about you?"  
"My mom said she come by on the weekend sometime." To be honest, his mother had never said such a thing. She hadn't even said goodbye when he was carted off to the nuthouse. He didn't want to tell Stiles this though; that would make his mother look insensitive.

Stiles opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the room was suddenly filled with a loud shrieking, whining noise of a siren. Over the noise of the siren, Scott could hear a woman's monotone voice giving out directions.  
"Is this normal," Scott asked, yelling over the screech of the alarm.  
"It's the alarm for when one of the patients off the secure ward has escaped!" Stiles yelled over the noise. Scott was momentarily silenced by his friend's words. An escape? From the secure ward? That definitely spelled trouble.

The alarm ceased suddenly, leaving the room deathly quiet. As hints of conversation started to filter back into the room, Scott noticed Isaac heading towards them, looking rather startled.  
"What did I miss," Isaac asked. His hair was ruffled and his clothes wrinkled. "Who escaped?" Scott couldn't help but notice how casually Isaac said it, as though escapees were a regular thing.

"What's the possibility that whoever escaped is a complete psycho," Erica asked, suddenly nervous.  
"The possibility is high. Whoever escaped most likely has violent tendencies or psychotic behaviour. That's what the secure ward is for." The four of them turned to stare at Derek, who sat a table away with his visitor. He glared back at them and shrugged. "I was just thinking out loud. Don't take my words to heart." The man that sat across from Derek, his visitor, laughed briefly, light reaching his eyes.

"Always the optimist, aren't you Derek," the man said, a sly smile on his face.  
"Shut up, Peter," Derek mumbled, his eyes focused on his hands as he returned to shuffling cards.  
For being a social recluse, Scott was surprised that Derek had a visitor. His own mother wouldn't come, but one of Derek's relatives would; Scott envied him right now. As they carried on with the game of LIFE, Scott watched Derek in his peripheral view. He seemed to pay little to no attention to his guest, but that didn't seem to bother his visitor any. If anything, it sparked up a one sided conversation that seemed to annoy Derek more than anything. Scott couldn't help but feel kind of lonely.

* * *

As Scott prepared for bed later that evening, he kept giving Isaac unintentional side glances, Erica's words repeating themselves in his head the entire time. She had said that Barrow had done something to him, something that had broke Isaac. What possibly cruelty could have fallen upon Isaac to change his entire mental well-being? If there was something wrong, Isaac did a damn good job of hiding it.

"What are you looking at," Isaac demanded sourly, snapping Scott out of his daze. Scott shook his head.  
"Sorry," he muttered, feeling heat rise to his face, "I was lost in thought." Scott crawled into bed and almost immediately fell asleep. He was surprised when the slightest noise of the door creaking open roused him. At first, Scott assumed it was just one of the nurses doing their nightly checks, but his heart jumped into his throat as he felt someone's hand clamp over his mouth. He clenched his hand into a fist, ready to punch whoever it was out, and opened his eyes. His fist relaxed and unclenched as he realized who it was.

It was Lydia.  
She pressed a finger to her lips, motioning for him to be silent. Scott nodded and Lydia removed her hand from his mouth. Scott slid up into a sitting position and glanced at Lydia, still shocked. How had she gotten off of the secure ward?

"I need to show you something," she whispered. She tip-toed back to the door and waved him over. Scott slid his legs over the edge of his bed and stepped into his slippers. As quietly as possible, he followed Lydia, being careful not to wake Isaac as he closed the door. Lydia tiptoed down the hall, hugging the wall as she went. Scott chased after her, not being nearly as quiet as her. She led him through the Youth Ward and onto the Adult Ward. He was surprised that they hadn't run into any of the night staff…yet. She came to an abrupt halt as she came to the turn that veered off into the foyer.

"What did you want to show me," Scott whispered. Lydia turned to him, her green eyes bright as day.  
"I do not _want _to show you something, I _need _to show you something," she said sternly. "I believe you may be able to help the others from suffering an awful fate."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I need you to expose them," she whispered, menace hidden in her voice. Her eyes shimmered with rage. "I need you expose what they have being doing here the past ten years."

**A/N: So, what do you think! I hope you all enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review if you want to; they're appreciated. And I hope that I am portraying all the characters accurately.**


	5. Chapter 5

He had no idea as to where Lydia was taking him. In all honesty, he thought of turning back and crawling back into bed. He was tired and wasn't really up to sneaking through the hospital, looking for god knows what. More than anything, he was worried about getting caught. But despite the fear of getting caught, Scott followed Lydia; a deep sense of curiosity lurked beneath his fear and it tempted him to follow Lydia.

Once they had snuck past the nurse on duty that lurked in the foyer, Lydia led him to the staircase and they climbed two sets of stairs before coming to a door that opened onto the third floor; the same floor where Scott has seen the suspiciously locked door. They passed by the locked door, Dr. Blake's and several other doctors' offices before coming to a door that read Records Room.  
Scott watched with surprise as he watched Lydia pick the lock like she had done it a thousand times before. The room was small and narrow, it seemed almost claustrophobic. It seemed to Scott as though no one had been here in ages; it seemed rather dusty and untouched. The entire room was lined with shelves, all filled with manila folders, all alphabetized.

"Why did you bring me here," Scott asked, analyzing the wall of records.  
"To show you something," she muttered, her attention focused on the shelves before her. "This room, besides holding patient records, also holds information on the employees here, including the doctors." Her fingers skimmed along the line of folders, pausing when she came near the end of the highest shelf. She pulled out a folder that was marked with a green sticker and handed it to him.  
"The ones marked with green are the records on employees, but you won't find anything too important in there. There's no evidence to convict them," she stated.

She pulled out two more folders. "But you can connect the dots."  
"The dots for what," he asked numbly.  
"For exposing them," she sighed, exasperated, "Look through their resumes; I'm sure you'll notice it." He grabbed the other two folders from her hands and sat down on the ground, spreading them out before him. Scott flipped open the first folder which had Dr. Barrow's name written along the tab. The two other files belonged to Dr. Morrell and Dr. Harris.

At first he didn't see it, but as he skimmed over each of their resumes, he realized that all three had worked at the same place previously. A place called Riverton Psychiatric Facility, located somewhere in Wyoming.  
They had all been hired within months of each other and had quit within days of each other. They had all worked on the locked ward, working with the most unmanageable of patients. It could be a coincidence, but Scott doubted it.

"What makes you think that _I_ can help you," Scott demanded, his voice raising an octave. "What's so special about me?" Lydia stared at him, her expression stern.  
"Because I believe you can make this stop," she said reassuringly. "There is something different about you. The voices tell me to trust you." Scott tilted his head in confusion and opened his mouth, about to ask exactly what voices she was referring to when he remembered that she was a schizophrenic.

This was a stupid idea, he thought suddenly. He shouldn't have blindly followed Lydia. She had after all escaped from the _secure_ward; she was a Houdini that was mentally unstable. Scott didn't want to get picked up and carried away into her bizarre reality. Unfortunately, it was too late to backtrack on his decisions.  
"How do I know that this is true?" He waved the folders that were in his hand. "What if this is all just a coincidence?"

"Do you hear what you're saying, Scott?" she asked, her eyes burning brightly. " The three of them just _happened_ to work at the same places before they suddenly quit at the _same_ time, and now, within months of each other, they get jobs here; I don't think it's a coincidence and neither do you." The muscles in her face relaxed and the fire in her eyes dulled. "You doubt yourself…I understand that."  
"But how do I know that you're telling the truth?" he asked. The small subtle sign of kindness vanished from her face, replaced with an irritated look. Lydia shoved him up against the door, her fist tangled in his shirt.  
"I am telling you the truth, but I need you to trust me," she growled, "So will you help me expose them or not?"

* * *

Through the windows that lined the hall, Scott could see that the sky had lightened significantly. The trip back to the ward somehow seemed quicker than the trip off the ward. Lydia guided him effortlessly through the hallways, managing to avoid being spotted by the night staff that meandered around, and soon enough, Scott found himself back at his room.

"So what do you want me to do," Scott asked, lingering in the doorway.  
"Like I said, I need you to expose them. It doesn't matter _how_ you expose them, but you need to do it soon. Those three are twisted bastards, trust me."  
"How do you know," he asked, "About them being "twisted bastards", I mean?" Lydia came to an abrupt halt and turned to stare at him, her head tilted.  
"You should ask your friends that."

"What Stiles and Isaac?"  
"Not Stiles," she replied. "Isaac and Derek." Turning sharply on her heel, Lydia made her way down the hall, effortlessly quiet, leaving Scott standing in the door to his room, dumbfounded. Isaac and Derek; did they know something? And even if they did know something about the doctors, getting them to talk about it would be like pulling teeth. Stepping back into the room, closing the door quietly behind him, Scott looked over at Isaac's sleeping figure. The conversation with Erica suddenly came to mind. Whatever had "broke" Isaac, as Erica had put it, Dr. Barrow had caused. The question was _what_ had Barrow done that could mentally damage a teenager's mind.

* * *

"And you actually believe her," Stiles demanded. He dropped his fork onto his plate and leaned in closer. "Are you sure that you don't have brain damage that has somehow been overlooked?"  
"I'm not saying I believe her, I'm just taking it to thought," Scott stated. "What if what she said is true?"  
"What _exactly_ did she tell you," Stiles demanded.

"She said that the three of them-Barrow, Morrell and Harris- were "twisted bastards" and they needed to be exposed soon. When I asked her what I should do, she told me ask…." Scott glanced over at Isaac, who more or less was listening, but his eyes were focused on his plate. "She told me to ask Isaac and Derek." Startled by hearing his name, Isaac went rigid and slowly glanced up at Scott.

"Ask me about what," Isaac demanded tensely. He stared at Scott, his blue eyes sharp. Although the question had been pressing at the back of his mind lately, Scott didn't want to ask it. He didn't know how Isaac would react to it. But if what Lydia said was true, Scott needed help to expose the three of them, and fast.  
"The other day, Erica told us that you used to be Dr. Barrow's patient. She told us that there was nothing wrong with you when you came here. What did Barrow do to change that?" At the mention of his name, Isaac's hand clenched into fists. He directed his gaze back to the table and sighed heavily. Scott could see the tension in his shoulders spread up his neck to his jaw.  
"That's none of your business, Scott," he hissed.

"Isaac, I don't want to upset you…It's just it might help put Barrow in the limelight, to kick him out of here." Isaac shook his head, his lips pursing tightly together.  
"Why are you asking me this?"  
"You were Barrow's patient. Lydia said you would know about how twisted the guy was."  
"And you're going to believe what _Lydia _says!" he demanded, his voice growing louder. "She's a freaking schizophrenic, Scott. Why don't you use your brain before you leap into things."

"Look, I'm sorry, it's just that-" Scott stuttered, stumbling over his words. He hadn't intended to upset Isaac; he didn't know that the discussing Barrow would be an overly sensitive subject.  
"Maybe you should stop talking," Stiles muttered lowly. Ignoring Stiles' words, Scott reached out for Isaac. As soon as his hand made contact with Isaac's shoulder, Isaac jolted up into a standing position, sending the chair squealing against the floor.  
Several orderlies jumped to alertness as they saw Isaac suddenly rise from the table. He glared at Scott, his bright eyes burning with anger.

"You have no right to ask me about that," he said, his voice wavering. He stomped away, slowing only to pass the orderlies before storming out of the cafeteria. Stiles looked at him, a mixture of resignation and repulsion.  
"Way to go, Scott," he muttered.

"I didn't know that he'd react like that." Stiles shook his head, a smug smile appearing on his face.  
"Well you should have thought about it before hand." Stiles' gaze drifted to the cafeteria doors where Isaac had disappeared. "Well, since Isaac is a locked safe, you know what that means, right?" Scott sighed, hanging his head. He knew exactly what it meant; it meant he'd have to ask Derek. From the very little Scott knew about Derek, he definitely didn't want to get on his bad side. And if he reacted anything like Isaac did, he'd have a problem on his hands.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is was so slow. Hope you enjoy it! Comments and reviews are appreciated and welcomed.**


	6. Chapter 6

On the way back to the ward, Scott contemplated how he was going to approach Derek with the absurdly crazy questions and explanations that floated around in his head. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Derek; his anger was probably five times worse than Isaac's.  
"Maybe I shouldn't do this," Scott muttered, feeling suddenly small and threatened.

"This was your idea," Stiles argued, "Not mine. Besides, you've talked to him before, and you weren't intimidated then. What happened?"  
"When I first got here, you told me that he suffers from outbursts of rage. What happens if I trigger that rage?"  
Stiles shrugged. "I don't think he'd be violent and take it out on you, otherwise he wouldn't be on this ward." Stiles shoved him in Derek's directions. "If he does try and attack you, I'll be your backup." Scott glanced at his friend, making sure that he had heard him right. He took in Stiles' slight, lean frame. Although he had some muscles that were well defined, Derek could easily beat both of them six ways to Sunday.  
"That's so reassuring," he muttered, before heading over to where Derek was sitting.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"  
Derek barely glanced up from his cards. He shrugged. "Go ahead." Scott took a seat next to Derek, close enough so that they could whisper.  
"Who's your doctor?"

"Dr. Morrell," he replied. "But why do you care?"  
"Well, you know Lydia….She has this whole theory about Morrell, Barrow and Harris are responsible for the patient's death and that you-"  
Derek paused in shuffling his cards and glanced up at Scott, a deadly serious look on his face.

"Are you trying to tell me that three doctors are conspiring together, killing certain patients, but making it look like suicides?" Scott's eyebrows rose. Derek seemed to catch on fast without any reasonable need to doubt.  
"Something along those lines," Scott replied. He leaned in closer. "But first I need to know your opinion of Morrell. Do you think she would be capable of killing someone?"  
Derek shrugged and placed the card deck in front of him. "Torturing someone…Yes. Killing someone…Maybe."  
"Why do you think that?"

"She used Electroshock Therapy on me when I first came here. It helped, I guess, but there were other things that she did…things that made me uncomfortable." He fell silent, his eyes darkening as a glassy look appeared in them.  
"Like what?" Scott asked, pressing for more information. Derek pulled the cards closer to him, and directed his gaze down to the cards in his hands, which had started trembling slightly.

"I can't show you here," he whispered. Slowly, he got up from his seat and headed towards the bathroom, motioning for Scott to follow. Confused, Scott got up from his chair and followed Derek, two steps behind. As the bathroom door swung shut behind Scott. Making sure that they were the only ones in the room, Derek pulled off his shirt and turned around. Pale white scars feathered his toned back, from shoulder to hip; forming an X. Gently Scott traced a finger along the most prominent scar. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Derek; although the cuts had healed, it still looked like they hurt.  
"Morrell did this," Scott asked, thoroughly shocked. "You've never told anyone?"  
"Don't you think I tried?" Derek replied, turning to face Scott. "I can't exactly flat out tell my uncle that my doctor has been torturing me. I'm not sure he'd believe me."  
"But doesn't anyone else in the hospital know, like another doctor or something?"  
"I don't think so," Derek replied quietly, "If someone did know, I'd think they'd give me a different doctor and they'd have kicked her out for unethical practices by now."

"Is she still hurting you?" Averting his gaze, Derek shook his head slowly.  
"Not psychically, not anymore," he muttered quietly. Scott let his mind wrap around Derek's words as he tried to process what he had said. If Morrell wasn't psychically torturing him anymore, what kind of torture could she be inflicting? Emotional? Psychological? ...Sexual? Scott felt a renewed amount of determination ignite within him. If he could expose these corrupt doctors, he'd be able to spare others like Derek and Isaac.

They both tensed as they heard the bathroom door swing open on its squeaky hinges.  
"Hey, what are you boys doing?" They took a step back from each other as the orderly approached them, a slightly disgusted expression on his face.  
"Put your shirt back on," he ordered Derek. Derek did as ordered and then they were both marched back out into the hall, practically pushing both boys out the door.

Once they were out of the orderlies ear shot, Derek asked, "Are you sure what Lydia says is true?" He paused. "Is she trustworthy?" Even though Scott had doubted Lydia, something about how she had more knowledge of what actually happened within the hospital made him want to trust her.  
"I think she can be trusted." He glared at Scott, his green eyes deeply analyzing him. He nodded once and then turned away.  
"I'll take your word for it."  
"So you'll help me?" Scott asked, hopeful.  
"I guess…Yeah, I'll help you.

* * *

After talking to Derek, Scott hunted down Isaac, who he found in their bedroom. He was curled up on his bed, facing the wall. Scott lingered uncomfortably in the doorway, struggling on how to phrase his apology.  
As though seeming to sense eyes on him, Isaac glanced over his shoulder. Realizing it was Scott, he turned back to face the wall.

"This is your room, too, you know," he muttered, "Don't wait for an invitation to come in." Sheepishly, Scott stepped into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. Scott paused momentarily before deciding to approach the apology head on.  
"Isaac, I'm sorry about what I said at lunch. I didn't know that Barrow was such a sensitive subject for you. I hope you can forgive me." There was a moment of silence before he heard Isaac sigh in resignation.

"I'm not mad at you, Scott," he replied. He rolled over to face Scott. "It's just I don't want to relive those memories…"  
"I get that, I do." Scott paused as he considered his words. "It's just that, Dr. Barrow might be responsible for hurting patients…maybe even killing them."  
"Barrow hurt Derek too," Isaac asked, sounding surprised.

"Not Barrow, Dr. Morrell," Scott corrected. "But, yeah, she hurt him. He showed me the scars." He sat himself on his bed to make himself more comfortable. He rested his hands on his knees, deliberating on what to say.  
"I think we can trust Lydia. I don't know how, but she seems to know a lot about what goes on in this place," Scott exclaimed. "And if it is true, what those three are doing to patients is horrible; we can't let that happen to anyone else."

"Well, what can you do; what can we do?" he asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. "I mean, we can't just go around telling anyone who may or may not believe us. We are in a nuthouse after all; I don't think many people believe anything that insane people say." Scott couldn't help but admit that Isaac had a point. None or very little people would outright believe someone who had been classified as mentally unstable. If telling someone on the outside was the way Scott was going to go through with exposing three corrupt doctors, he'd have to find someone he trusted completely. There weren't many; he couldn't even trust his own mother; she probably wouldn't believe him anyway.  
"I'll think of something…We'll think of something."

* * *

Scott wasn't all that surprised when Derek joined them at dinner that evening. The only person that seemed surprised was Stiles.  
"Ah, hello," Stiles said awkwardly as Derek took a seat next to him. He inched away from Derek and glanced up at Scott, who was smirking at Stiles' discomfort.  
"Am I missing something," he asked.  
"Derek's going to help us," Scott said quietly. "I thought it'd be handy if he sat with us, that way we can all conspire together."

Pushing his food tray away, Stiles rubbed his hands together, a mischievous look on his face. "Conspiring is one of my favourite words," he stated, a sly grin on his face. He leaned in close to Scott and beckoned Derek and Isaac closer. "So, first things first-we have to figure out exactly how we plan to expose Barrow, Morrell, and Harris."  
"Well, we're going to need evidence," Scott exclaimed, "It helps that Derek and Isaac are victims of their abuse. But the problem is finding concrete evidence to convict them."

"That and finding someone that will believe us," Isaac added. The four of them fell silent, lost in thought.  
"Well I don't really have anyone," Isaac stated flatly, "But you guys have family. Would any of them believe you?" A silence fell between them as Scott, Stiles and Derek mulled over whether their family would believe their crazy story. Scott knew that his mother wouldn't; she probably brush it off as an attempt to weasel himself out of the hospital. Scott didn't know about Stiles' dad, but getting the Sheriff involved could be a good or bad thing.

"My uncle might," Derek exclaimed lowly. Scott thought he sounded uncertain, but at least it was something.  
"Visiting days ended today, though," Isaac said, "We'd have to wait all week for you'd to see him again. By that time…something else could've happened." There was a slight pause as Derek took this into consideration. His brow furrowed in concentration as he nervously bit at his thumb nail. He sighed, sounding defeated.

"We go to him then," Derek muttered. Scott stared at Derek for a long moment, processing what he had just said. He opened his mouth to speak, but struggled for words to say. After a moment of gaping like a fish, Scott managed to say, "Are you suggesting that we…escape?" His voice had died down to a whisper. Escaping was a big risk taker, and if they got caught, they'd all suffer the consequences. But just the thought of escaping gave Scott a nervous sort of energy that he recognized as excitement. He hadn't felt excited in a long time.

**A/N: So what do you all think? I plan to bring in Peter again in either the next chapter or the one after that. If my writing goes the way I plan, the next chapter should show one of the doctor's darker side, and there also ****might**** be a POV change from Scott to Stiles.**


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